


The Stories that Paint your Skin

by Widow_Spyder



Series: The times you were here; with me [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, No Smut, Scars, but also mainly fluff, this is mainly angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 21:32:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17568314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Widow_Spyder/pseuds/Widow_Spyder
Summary: For years John hid behind this cloak. A protection against unwanted eyes staring at him in the vulnerable state he was in behind the spell he cast. No one else knew about it. Until John decided to take a leap of fate.





	The Stories that Paint your Skin

John had his days. Days where the negative voice in his head grew a little louder, making the exorcist question everything going on around him. Today was that day.

His mind reminded him over and over that this was a bad idea. That his relationship was a bad idea. He shouldn’t get attached because something terrible would happen and then John would be hurt and alone all over again. Not to mention the state of whoever he was with. It happened before, who's to say it won’t happen again? 

John pushed those thoughts aside and continued to smoke the cigarette he had lit. He was on the balcony of Des’s apartment. He always smoked out there instead of inside since he didn’t want to smoke up a place that wasn't his. John had been staying at Des’s apartment for the past month now; he apparently trusted him with the key. 

A chilly wind blew past him as he looked out to the street below. His thoughts ran through his mind again. Going from the outcomes of his relationship with Des and how everything will eventually fall apart, to John’s own deprecating thoughts about himself. How everything was his fault. How he screwed things up and everyone he knew hated him for it. That he didn’t deserve love and affection, mainly from Des. The typical stuff that John’s brain would come up with. It was silly to think things like that, especially with how easily John could end up spiraling just from his thoughts alone. But he couldn’t help it. He was always like this. 

No matter what, John would always have this little hate for himself. The memories of the things he’d done, forever stuck in his mind. The fuel for his hatred. There was no escape. Not for him. Hell would eventually come collecting, and nothing that he knew of would stop it. 

You could say he’d given up on saving his soul. Granted, if an opportunity did arise then by god he would take it, but no opportunity made itself known. 

_Not yet._ John told himself. It was only when John felt a slight sting on his wrist that he decided to head back inside. Scratching his wrist was an old habit he’d picked up years ago. It only happened when he’d get episodes like this and what made it worse was that he didn’t even know he’d do it until he broke the skin. 

John sighed, stubbing out his cigarette and throwing it over the balcony. Once inside, John grabbed his coat from its place on the chair. 

It was 8 pm, a time where the music outside gained just a bit more volume as people started drinking for the night. John slipped on his shoes and headed out.

It became a constant, almost every night, John would walk to the restaurant Des worked at and help him clean up for the night when his shift was over. He would also enjoy a good dinner and the company of the man that made him happy. 

To John, Des was like a beacon of light in his otherwise shadow of a world. A light that was most appreciated by the warlock. It wasn’t as if Des was unaware of John’s fragile history either. He had told Des his whole life story yet he was still here, with him. He couldn’t tell if Des was brave or just a plain fool. Either one, John wasn’t complaining. 

Once John had arrived at the restaurant, and his eyes landed on that beautiful face, he forgot all those pesky thoughts instantly. A smile spreading across his face as Des noticed he was there and smiled back at him. They would spend half the night talking to each other, eating food and enjoying the company. Des worked from 12 pm to 11 pm every day which left John to his own accord during at least a few of those hours. 

When it was finally time to go, the restaurant was empty, and the chairs were up on the table. The smell of food was slowly fading away as they both walked back to Des’s apartment. 

Silence fell upon them as they reached the door. John reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, rusted keychain with half a dozen keys on them. Many of them were old and oddly shaped, definitely not belonging to any standard lock. 

John groaned, still fumbling with the many keys and getting frustrated when he couldn’t find the one normal looking one out of his weird collection. 

Hands suddenly encircled his own, immediately stopping him from struggling any further.

John looked up into the soft eyes looking back at him and damn it, he could just melt right into them. 

Des took the keychain from John and guided his hand to his mouth where he placed a light kiss on John’s palm. In return, John cupped Des’s cheek and smiled even wider than he already was when Des started kissing down his arm. Moving his hand to the back of Des’s neck, John pulled him closer and suddenly their noses were touching, and there was no space between them. 

For a minute they just stared, their breaths mingling together in the cold night air. 

Des was the first to make a move, giving John a quick peck on the lips before pulling back. Now it was John’s turn. John gripped Des’s neck and pulled him for a rough kiss, shoving his tongue through Des’s lips when he felt them part. That was all it took as Des wrapped his arms around John’s waist and pushed him back into the door, the sound of keys jingling behind his back.

How Des managed to find the right key and unlock the door so quickly was something John would question later. At the moment, all he cared about were the hands removing his trench coat and pushing him up against the wall as the door slammed behind them. Des moved his lips down John’s neck, sucking on the skin as he unbuttoned John’s shirt. 

John moaned a little louder than he expected when Des suddenly bit down on his neck. He went to help Des out of his shirt. The same time Des unbuttoned the last button on John’s shirt, letting it fall open and then lifting his own arms to take off his shirt. 

Clothing fell to the floor as Des moved his arms from John’s waist to underneath him, lifting him up against the wall. 

John hummed into their kiss, wrapping his legs around Des’s waist and letting himself be carried to the bedroom. Des was surprisingly strong, being able to carry a grown man across an apartment without even struggling. Though they did fall unceremoniously on the bed, they were both right back up, sitting instead of lying down. 

John was holding Des’s cheek with one hand while his other hand slid down Des’s stomach and tugged at the belt of his jeans. Des, however, seemed to want to take thing slow that night and pinched John’s side which made an embarrassing squeal come out of him. He pulled back a little. Des was more than pleased, laughing slightly when John’s hands went to protect his sides, a deep blush on his face. John would’ve made a retort, but he was too busy staring at Des’s lips, aching for them to be back on his. Des apparently got the message. 

Their next kiss was passionate and long. Tongues overlapping with each other, fighting for dominance as they stilled their bodies, soaking into the moment. Eventually, they had to break out of it before they passed out from lack of oxygen. Their foreheads were pressed together as they both breathed heavily, a bit of saliva still connecting their mouths. 

Des ran his hands up and down John’s shoulders and down his arms. John opened his eyes and saw Des staring back at him with those perfect, slightly dilated, eyes. Des moved forward to kiss him again, and John met him halfway. 

“So perfect.” Des murmured into John’s lips as he hands went further down and brushed over the scratches John had given himself earlier.

John tore from the kiss and turned his head away. All the thoughts he had earlier that day rushing back to him. 

“Is something wrong?” Des asked. 

“Yes - well No. No this is. Good. Very good but uhh.” John stuttered. He really wasn’t good at this.

“What’s the matter, Johnny?” Des consoled, cupping John’s cheek. “I’m listening.” _Oh man, why did Des have to be the perfect person he was?_

“I just. I don’t --” John couldn’t get the words out. 

“Hey, it’s ok.” Des soothed, rubbing John’s chin. “Take a deep breath.”

There’s something about that smile that makes all rational thoughts leave John’s head instantly. 

“I’m.. I’m just - bloody hell.” John cursed. _Damn it come on!_ He could feel his emotions stirring, urging him to breakdown and let everything go. John just shut his eyes and looked down. He wasn’t going to breakdown. He wasn’t going to cry. 

“Hey.. look at me.” Des gently guided John’s face back up towards him. Des was closer, a concerned look on his face, drastically different from his aroused face a minute ago. _Shit, you just ruined a perfectly good moment. Good going, Constantine._

“ I -” 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Des said, moving away from him. “We can just sleep tonight.” John quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him back. 

“No! I’m.. Alright.” John struggled to get the words out. _Damn, why is my brain to mouth not working? Jesus Christ out with it already! Kick those thoughts in the bollocks! Just tell him!_ John's mind yelled.

John took a deep breath, steadying himself.

“I want to show you something.” John declared. _Yes, this is what he wanted. If Des was going to be with him, he had to know the truth. He already knew his history, what difference could another small detail make?_

“Ok.. is it good or bad?” Des asked. It was clear, he was uncertain of the whole situation. 

“Depends on you, luv.” John smiled a little, hoping that would ease away some of the tension in the room. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You know my, job. It isn’t - well, it’s dangerous...” Des was silent; listening. John continued. “I always get back from a case with lots of injuries and…” Here we go. “There are marks,” John said, uneasiness running its course through his veins. 

“Like scars?” Des asked.

“Yeah…” John looked down, suddenly feeling shy. 

“But I don’t see them.” Des relented. Though it seemed more like curiosity instead of questioning.

“Because I use a glamour spell to hide them... It’s engraved in one of my tattoos. Makes everythin’ a bit easier, y’know?” John shrugged. “Doctors won’t ask a bunch of questions 'bout it if I’m brought to the E.R. either. And it means I won’t have to look at them in a mirror.”

Des’s face was hard to read, and John knew he was walking on thin ice. Scratch that - it was more like he was jumping up and down on a thin sheet of ice in Antarctica with killer sharks waiting to devour him when he’d eventually fall in. 

“I just - I wanted to tell you since you know everything else about me and it’s. It’s fine, really. Forget I said anythi-” John didn’t get to finish as Des suddenly kissed him. It was a surprise for John, to say the least, his eyes wider than plates before he closed them and moaned. Des pulled back a few moments later, resting his forehead against John’s. 

“Thank you,” Des whispered. _Thank you? Des was thanking him?_

“For - for what?” John asked, perplexed. 

“For trusting me. For telling me.” Des smiled, lightly stroking John’s back along his spine. His cold fingers made John shiver. “I think an award is in order.” 

“Oh,” John smirked. Des smiled that wonderful smile back and started kissing up and down John’s neck, underneath his ear. 

“This doesn’t - ah - change anything?” John moaned when Des licked his ear. 

“Why would it?” Des breathed. 

“I don’t know,” John admitted.

“Johnny…” Des said as he stopped kissing him for a minute, looking at John’s face. 

“Hmm,” John hummed. He was getting too caught up in the arousal he felt to notice Des’s serious demeanor. 

“Can I? Can I see them?” Des asked. He sounded unsure yet seemed determined. 

John pulled back and stared at Des. Every thought in his brain started running, screaming at him, not to do it. To respectfully decline and go back to kissing. But as John looked at Des, he felt safe. Trusted. _Screw those damn thoughts anyway._

“Ok” 

John got up off the bed and stood in front of Des who was curiously watching him. Almost like a child, seated cross-legged on the bed as if John was gonna pull a rabbit out of a hat. 

John chuckled at the thought of it. 

He placed his hand over his shoulder and on one of his simpler looking tattoos. One that took less than an hour to get but over a day to engrave a spell into. John was hesitant. But this is what he wanted. He wanted Des to know the truth. To see the truth. 

He recited the right words, and for the first time in almost a dozen years, John temporarily dropped the spell that had cloaked him for so long. It was a bit weird for him to be stared down in this state. He felt vulnerable. Naked. 

When John looked at Des, he expected to see pity or anger or disgust or maybe all three, but when John's eyes met his, he saw something else entirely. Was that admiration? Affection? Or was he just not seeing straight? The room was a little dark but not a lot. The light from the living room shining through the darkness, making it pretty easy to see.

Des stood up and walked towards him. John couldn’t help but fidget as Des got closer, examining him. Des slowly reached out his hand, waiting for approval. 

John silently nodded. Neither of them saying anything as Des traced one of the slightly bigger scars on his chest. One he had gotten from an old demon fight years ago. A story for another time. 

John looked down, in shame or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure. Knowing himself, it was probably both. He felt tears well up in his eyes. 

In response, Des tilted John’s head back up and pulled him in for a hug. John thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. 

“It’s alright, Johnny.” Des soothed, tightening his grip a little. 

“You- your not.. Disgusted?” John questioned. He didn’t get it. He was covered, from head to toe in small and large scars, bruises and random injury markers. Des should be revolted. Right?

“Of course not.” Des pulled out of the hug and placed his hands on John’s shoulders. “I would never be disgusted by you.” Des smiled. “You’re my boyfriend after all.”

John’s heart exploded. He thrust himself into Des, kissing him with everything he had. Des fell back onto the bed, groaning as he did so. John landed on top of him, fiddling with Des’s belt, this time being allowed to remove it as they continued kissing each other. 

Clothes came off as they both thoroughly enjoyed themselves for the night. 

~~~~~~~~~

They were both lying next to each other, John on his back with Des’s face tucked under his neck. It was very late at night, the afterglow and endorphins still flowing through them, leaving them nicely buzzed. 

“How long?” Des suddenly asked, moving his head to look at John. 

“How long what?” John sighed. 

“How long have you kept up the spell?” Des stroked at John’s scarred chest. “Do they even hurt? Or do you use healing spells for that? Does magic even work like that? Des babbled.

John smiled. Of course, Des had questions. Who wouldn’t? 

“Let’s see, I’ve kept this spell up for the last 6 years, I think,” John answered. “They don’t hurt anymore, mainly ‘cause they’re pretty old, and yes, magic does work like that. But it comes with a price.” John looked at his chest and sighed. “A price I was willing to pay back then.” 

“But then again, they’re just marks.” John shrugged. It was too late at night for mood dampening. 

“They’re stories, Johnny. Tales of a survivor. And a warrior.” Des beamed at him. 

John laughed. “So bloody poetic..”

“You like it.” Des laughed with him. 

Damn… John was so falling in love. But that didn’t seem like such a bad thing. He snuggled down under the covers, letting Des wrap his arms around his waist, turning John on his side. 

Des lightly kissed John’s neck, the skin still sensitive and raw from their earlier interactions. 

John could feel Des drifting off behind him and opted to do the same. He closed his eyes and tried to follow suit. 

The spell would come back in the morning, again hiding away the proof of his hardships. But for now. Being cradled against Des’s warm body and hearing his breathing slow, he couldn’t help but not care as he too drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so not all of my fic ideas that randomly pop up in the middle of the night make sense... I guess the only thing that comes to my brain after 12 pm is angst and "other stuff..." I APOLOGIZE FOR MY HORRIBLE BRITISH ACCENT DIALOGUE!! I'm still learning about this whole writing thing. 
> 
> I just always wondered why John never seems to have any scars on his body. With all the stuff he goes through, and the "price of magic," I figured there'd be more marks on his skin. Then I thought, what if he does have scars but hides them with magic so that he doesn't freak anyone out? 
> 
> *Glamour Spells are spells you can place on living things or objects that can make the appearance of it look different from what it really looks like.*
> 
> Also why do I always end my stories with both of them falling asleep? Lol I'll change it up in next weeks fic, I promise. 
> 
> Let me say again. I have not read any of the comics and only know so much about the John Constantine character from the shows and movies. I have no idea if anything I wrote is not cannon or accurate, I'm just going with what I know. Hope that's still alright.
> 
> Anyway, this is what I brought together for this weeks fanfic. Hope you enjoyed it and THANKS for reading this far! :)


End file.
